The Tree at the End of the World
by guyw1tn0nam3
Summary: By keeping the portals open, Korra brought the world into a new age where a hegemony of Spirits and humans is formed. However, as disaster approaches, four strangers are called to embark on a journey to the Tree of Time to discover the powers of this force of nature that may save humanity and rewrite the rules of the universe. Inspired by Dan Simmon's Hyperion.


**A/N: **This may be a one-shot, maybe not, we'll see. Depends on how interesting the idea is to other people. Inspired by Dan Simmon's _Hyperion_. Spoilers for the finale

* * *

**Prologue**

* * *

Erito's after work pastime for the last two months involved reclining on a custom made leather chair at night, listening to an old recording of Tai Xing's rendition of the _New Age Symphony_ while reading Anya Liu's ten million character series, _The Chronicles of Time,_ with a glass of vintage white wine fermented in the Fire Nation's most exquisite vineyards.

Thick rain drops peppered his windows, and the sound of thunder complemented Tai Xing's orchestra as the symphony reached its fourth and final movement. Erito had always been impressed with Xing's mastery of creating unique orchestras to fit the performance, but only in this specific recording had Xing taken a piece so reliant on its horn section and composed a group of almost entirely of winds and strings. Yet this was undoubtedly Xing's grandest moment, the one ubiquitous recording in dusty bookshelves around the world. A performance in front of the Avatar, the Elder Council, and the President of the Hegemony of Man had no doubt left Tai Xing as one of the most accomplished conductors of all time.

The phone rang. Erito ignored it, and allowed the thunderous horns and storms to drown out the mellow ringing.

He took a sip of the white wine as he flipped to a new chapter in _The Chronicles of Time_. Anya Liu's twenty volume series was a masterpiece of historical fiction that spanned the years from the fall of Chin the Conqueror to the reopening of the Spirit Portals during Harmonic Convergence. With the help of newly discovered historical and cultural documents, Chin the Conqueror's image of a warlord grew into a small man with a stout heart and a mind constantly haunted by failure and disappointment. Hundreds of accounts from the Hundred Year War became available, most popularly the _Letters from the Gate of Azulon_. It was a love story between a man writing to an Earth Kingdom woman who was already dead, and the woman's sister who returned those letters for years.

Its most famous stories, however, were the _Harmonic Divergence _stories sprinkled throughout the series that explored possibilities in changes in known history. Thousands of pages were dedicated to rewriting a future that could have been, dealing with every detail of political squabbles, cultural upheavals, and economic changes that would have been derived by a single deviation from the established timeline. Nobody knew how Anya Liu had crafted a work so thoroughly with every minute facet of history rewritten so brilliantly but every scholar would have been mad to not have at least two collections of Liu's opus magnum.

The phone rang again. The caller must have rung twice. "Damn," Erito said, putting down his glass and leaving his silk bookmark in the book. He paced slowly to the shaking phone, and then snatched it up with frustration. "Yeah?"

"This is the current President of the Hegemony, Ro Ming," said the calm voice. "Took your sweet time, didn't you?"

Erito cursed underneath his breath. "What do you want?"

"It's been made official, The Elder Council has advised on its new prediction," the voice of the president was as calm as the eye of a storm, and his next words gave no hint of distress or trepidation. "They see the end of the world and say it is imminent."

"Liar," Erito fired back. "The High Kami weren't supposed to have given a prediction until next week."

"There was an exception made, and we implored the Elder Council for an earlier Clairvoyance," said Ro. "The conflict with The Renegades might break into full out war soon, and we needed some public evidence that we could rout them should they attempt to harm the Tree of Time. Fortunately we got that. Unfortunately, there was a different prediction tacked on. Why isn't your portal open?"

"I close it so people like you can't come in when I'm listening to the performance that you didn't invite me to."

"Well, in any case," said Ro. "We have corroborated with the Elder Council and we have all decided on four individuals, you included, to journey to the Tree of Time."

_The Tree of Time, _an ancient tree in the Spirit World, a medium to access the cosmos of the universe, the conduit for infinite power, and the symbol of evil and corruption in the eyes of spirit hating humans, The Renegade. Erito let the idea sink in for a moment. This development could only mean one thing: the Tree of Time was starting to move again.

"And if I refuse?" Erito asked. "I'm not in the mood to go back."

"Execution for high crimes against humanity," Ro's voice was so tranquil, Erito half-thought he was joking. "I have a squad of highly trained archers sitting outside your room, since you had turned off your spirit portal. The instant you refuse, two will shatter your window and the next three will aim at every possible escape route you can think of. Confidentiality Erito, you're in or you're dead. Can't have the public learning that the end of the world has just been foretold."

"So I either travel to the Tree of Time and get eviscerated or eaten alive by whatever monsters await me there," said Erito. He looked around his room, and frowned when he found no appropriate cover. "Or I get murdered by you. I'm sorry to say that I'd rather watch my future children get devoured than let you have the glory of killing me."

"We have an agreement, then," Ro did not phrase it like a question. "I expect your portal to be open by tomorrow. One of the Elder Council will arrive to brief you on the purpose of your journey. You're allowed to take one item with you and a set of clothes. Everything else, food, water, supplies, and even clothing will be provided. The Hegemony expects great things from you."

"Do I get to at least know who my companions are?" Erito sighed.

"No," said Ro. "The first is a young woman named Omou. For now that is all I can say."

The line cut off and Erito was left alone again. In the background, the _New Age Symphony_ reached its final moments, and he could have sworn to have heard muffled footsteps marching off into the darkness away from his home. As a cadence of thirty chords ended the piece and a grand applause swept the recording, Erito flung himself on his chair, his hand lingering over Anya Liu's book.

_The Tree of Time_.

Years had passed since he had last been there, standing before the awe inspiring location where Avatar Korra claimed the powers of the cosmos to fight against the powers of darkness and triumphed. Since then, it had become the ultimate pilgrimage for those with even the slightest affinity for spiritual matters. Professors, writers, debtors, scholars, people of all kinds swarmed to the Tree of Time to investigate, but as time dragged on, the spiritual energies of the Tree of Time began to freeze, and its properties began to take mysterious forms even to The High Kami, and the Elder Council refused to give any Clairvoyance on what was going to happen to the Tree of Time.

Now it was considered perilous to travel there, and as Erito glanced at his unfinished glass of white wine, he wondered what kind of force in the Spirit World would bring four strangers together and drag them to the spiritual center of the universe while the threat of annihilation loomed over the Hegemony of Man. He reset his stereo and switched out the record for another one of Tai Xing's recordings, a performance he gave just before Avatar Korra's passing four years before. It was an old Fire Nation song, a song that Erito heard often when he was a boy, but no longer when he was in service.

"Leaves from the vine," Erito whispered along with the song, listening to the voice of a woman, her voice forlorn and tragic against a somber set of strings.

"Falling so slow, like fragile, tiny shells drifting in foam."

The rain continued, softer now, patting gently against his rooftop as the wheels of time continued to turn...


End file.
